


Healing Hands

by ephemeralmorgan



Series: all's well that ends well (to end up with you) [2]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of canon-typical violence, Mutual pining but neither of them know it's mutual, Pre-Relationship, With a tiny bit of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralmorgan/pseuds/ephemeralmorgan
Summary: He presses answer and holds the phone up to his ear. Before he can say anything, Eli’s voice floats through the speaker. On the surface he sounds gruff and annoyed, but beneath that there’s a distressed, choppy quality to his voice that Demetri doesn’t like. Worry worms its way into his belly.“Demetri?”“Yeah, it’s me? Why do you sound like you’ve been gargling glass?”“Something happened. It’s… a long fucking story- ah, shit.” There’s a loud noise on the other end of the line and Eli suddenly hisses in pain.“Dude, are you alright?” Demetri frowns in concern.“I’m fine.” Eli sounds pissed again, anger overtaking anything else for a moment.“Uh, okay.” He hesitates. “Why’d you call, then?”Eli is silent for long enough that Demetri realizes he’s not going to get an answer.
Relationships: Demetri/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz
Series: all's well that ends well (to end up with you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152629
Comments: 18
Kudos: 78





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this at 3:45 in the morning because that's how much Hawk/Demetri has taken over my life. This could be read as a standalone fic but I wrote it as an unofficial sequel to broken (but not shattered), so you may want to read that one first!

Demetri is running.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit!_

Or trying to, at least. The rain that’s falling around him is icy and unforgiving, making his steps sluggish. Lightning flashes across the sky and the world brightens for only a moment before everything plunges back into darkness. Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance and Demetri knows he can’t let it catch up to him.

He can’t let _her_ catch up to him.

His chest feels tight with fear and his breath is coming in short bursts. Heart beating fast, he continues to sprint, his feet pounding against the pavement.

Turning a corner, he’s abruptly standing in front of a door.

_Oh, thank God._

Relief has Demetri rushing inside thoughtlessly, not even stopping to look around. Shutting the door against the wind and rain, he sags against the wall, breathing heavily.

He rests there until his lungs stop feeling like they’re about to explode before eventually lifting his head and scanning his surroundings.

As he glances around, his heart drops, fear returning in full force. He recognizes the familiar red and black flooring, the karate equipment, the mantra on the wall.

Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy.

And he’s not alone.

Kreese’s silent, but imposing figure is suddenly across from him. When their eyes meet, Demetri’s fear turns into utter terror. It has him walking back towards the door-

Only for it to slam open. Then Tory’s hand is on his shoulder, as a roar of thunder echoes above them.

“ _Got you_.”

* * *

Gasping for breath, Demetri shoots up from where he’d fallen asleep. Heart still racing, he quickly realizes he’s in his bedroom.

The cream-colored walls are bright in the lamplight and covered in movie posters. The bed, with its navy comforter and light gray sheets, sits in the middle of his room, facing the television. To the left of that is his closet and to the right is a bookshelf, filled with comics, novels, and a few photos. The opposite corner houses his desk, at which he’s still sitting. His laptop is on and textbooks are strewn around him.

_Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare._

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, shoulders slumping in relief. Demetri doesn’t even want to know what Dream Tory and Dream Kreese would have done to him.

Sitting up fully, he glances around, wondering what had woken him. He gets his answer when his phone begins pinging a second later. Demetri’s fairly sure he knows who the texts are from but gets up to check anyways.

The Miyagi-Do/Eagle-Fang group chat had been Sam’s idea. It would be easier to set training times and make plans, she’d said. He’s sure it’ll be convenient eventually but right now, only a week after the devastating fight at the LaRusso home, it’s mostly being used by Chris and Mitch. Despite being on the same side now, Demetri’s learning they like to argue.

A _lot_.

10:06 PM:

 **Mitch** : ur such a killjoy

10:07 PM

 **Chris** : if me not wanting to spend a crazyass amount of money on squad motorcycles means im a killjoy

 **Chris** : then yeah i am.

Demetri snorts in amusement. He’s secretly relieved that Chris is putting his foot down, though. As badass as they look, he knows all about the horrific statistics that come with motorcycles. His life doesn’t need any more danger, thank you very much.

10:08 PM:

 **Mitch** : theyre so fun tho :(

10:09 PM:

 **Chris** : imma say it again: i aint spending that much money on something i dont even need cause you wanna roll up to all valley lookin' like some kind of karate gang.

10:10 PM:

 **Mitch** : ig u have ur moms minivan

 **Mitch** : basically the same thing

10:11 PM:

 **Chris** : shut up, penis breath.

10:12 PM:

 **Mitch** : u arent allowed to call me that!!

10:13 PM:

 **Chris** : nobody should be calling you that?????

The typing bubble appears again but Demetri’s read enough. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he heads downstairs to go scrounge up some food. He and his mom had spent Christmas together but her job as a consultant means she travels quite a bit. He has the house to himself this weekend, something he’d never minded before. Now that he's been dragged into a freaking karate turf war, though, constant paranoia has ruined even this freedom.

He stops to make sure the front door is locked before walking into the kitchen. Demetri’s just opening the cabinet to get some cereal when his phone rings.

He blinks. His friends preferred to text ninety-nine percent of the time and his mother most likely wouldn’t be calling this late. Taking his phone out again, he’s surprised to see Eli’s contact appear. After their reunion, he’d renamed it to Binary Bro, mostly because he hadn’t been sure whether Eli would want it to be Hawk or Eli.

And also because Demetri had known it would annoy Eli, which he’d thought would be funny.

He presses answer and holds the phone up to his ear. Before he can say anything, Eli’s voice floats through the speaker. On the surface he sounds gruff and annoyed, but beneath that there’s a distressed, choppy quality to his voice that Demetri doesn’t like. Worry worms its way into his belly.

“Demetri?”

“Yeah, it’s me?” _Who else would it be_? “Why do you sound like you’ve been gargling glass?”

“Something happened. It’s… a long fucking story- ah, _shit_.” There’s a loud noise on the other end of the line and Eli suddenly hisses in pain.

“Dude, are you alright?” Demetri frowns in concern.

“I’m _fine_.” Eli sounds pissed again, anger overtaking anything else for a moment.

“Uh, okay.” He hesitates. “Why’d you call, then?”

Eli is silent for long enough that Demetri realizes he’s not going to get an answer.

(Their friendship had been so _easy_ , once. They’d told each other everything, no matter how embarrassing, stupid, or awkward it was. Demetri hadn’t been lying when he’d said his mom had gotten Eli an air mattress because of his sleep enuresis. She’d been as gentle and understanding as possible, but Eli had still been mortified. His shoulders had hunched up and he’d refused to meet Demetri’s eyes.

 _Look_ , Demetri had told him the second his door was closed, _I don’t care if I have to change my sheets every time we have a sleepover. I’d rather have you up here with me._ And he’d patted the space next to him until Eli had hopped onto the bed and curled into his side).

Eli still isn’t saying anything, so Demetri tries again.

“Do you want to…come over? Because you’re being weirdly mysterious, and my curiosity is officially piqued.”

Eli lets out a short laugh that’s more surprised than anything else and it hits Demetri just how much he’d _missed_ that sound.

“Yeah. Sure, man. Thanks.” There’s another pause, shorter this time. “…Your mom, is she home?”

“No, she won’t be back until Monday. Traveling. You know how it is.” Demetri narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Wait, why are you asking me that?”

But Eli’s already hung up.

Demetri eyes his phone.

_Alright, then._

* * *

Thirty minutes later, a knock sounds at the door. Demetri had spent that time eating a bowl of cereal, changing into casual clothes, and refusing to admit-even to himself-that he was nervous. The last time Eli had come over was almost a year ago; before Cobra Kai, before Miyagi-Do, before karate and vicious rivalries had taken over their lives. Maybe he shouldn’t have offered but Eli had sounded wrong on the phone and Demetri can’t find it in himself to regret asking.

He ambles towards the door, valiantly trying to pretend that his heart rate hadn’t kicked up the second he’d heard Eli knock. Demetri unlocks and opens the door slowly, _casually_.

“Uh, hey- “

Whatever Demetri had been going to say dies in his throat when his eyes land on Eli, alarm running through him. Eli’s left eye is black and blue, and his face around it looks painfully swollen. The top of his lip has a nasty cut on it that’s still bleeding, just under his scar, and there are dark bruises on his neck that are shaped like handprints. What really catches Demetri’s eye, though, is his mohawk.

Usually, the ‘hawk defied gravity, a fact which irritated Demetri as much as it intrigued him. During the school brawl, it had survived multiple fights and being kicked into a trophy case. Even shoving it into a helmet never seemed to have any effect on it.

(Lifetimes ago, when Eli had just been Hawk, not yet the alpha-male douche he would eventually become, they’d been hanging out on the beach with Moon. She’d jokingly splashed at it, but it hadn’t wilted one bit.

 _It’s like anime hair_ , Demetri had said, blinking owlishly at it. _Power of the Hawk, baby_ , Eli had responded, grinning smugly in a way that Demetri absolutely _refused_ to call attractive. Moon had just giggled at both of them.)

It’s defying gravity now, too, but in a different way. The bottom liberty spikes are only half up and tufts of Eli’s hair are sticking out. The top ones aren’t in much better shape, and upon closer inspection, he realizes they’re shorter than they usually are. In fact, they almost look like they've been…shaved at.

Demetri lets his gaze slide back down to Eli’s face. Their eyes meet for half a second before Eli breaks contact to stare sullenly off to the side.

“The other guys look worse.”

In spite of himself, Demetri snorts because it's such a _Hawk_ thing to say. It’s also probably true. The amusement disappears as fast as it comes, though, when Eli finally meets his eyes again.

“Can…can I come in?” He asks, voice tight.

Demetri forces his horror aside and nods. “Yeah, dude, holy shit. Get in here." Something like relief crosses Eli’s face.

He stands aside so Eli can walk into the house, making sure to lock the door after him again.

Eli pauses in the kitchen, expression distant and unsure like he’s not sure what to do next.

“Go sit on the couch,” Demetri says, taking pity on him. “I’ll be right back with some first-aid stuff.”

He looks caught off guard and Demetri’s surprised. He’d figured this was why Eli had called him in the first place.

“It’s okay, man. You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I don’t _have_ to,” Demetri responds. “But I want to. We’re friends again, remember?”

The distant expression disappears as Eli’s face softens. He smiles at Demetri weakly but genuinely and Demetri steadfastly ignores the butterflies in his stomach.

“Also, I’m not gonna let you drip blood all over my house,” Demetri adds, and Eli rolls his eyes fondly before wandering over to the living room.

Demetri runs to grab an icepack, some washcloths, towels, bandages, and a bowl of warm water. He carries it all to the couch and sits down next to Eli, turning to face him.

He hands Eli the icepack first. “Press this against your eye gently. It’ll reduce the swelling.”

Surprisingly, Eli does so without complaint, only pausing to wince at the cold. Then Demetri catches sight of his hands. They’re mostly just bruised but the right knuckle is completely split open, a shocking amount of blood still oozing out of it.

_How did I not notice that?_

Suddenly glad he’d thought to grab bandages, Demetri wets the first washcloth before looking back at Eli.

“Give me your hand.”

Eli blinks but holds it out toward him. Careful not to touch the wounded area, Demetri grabs his hand and begins to gently clean it. Eli sucks in a breath and Demetri looks up.

“This okay? It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?”

“It’s…it’s fine.” An odd expression crosses Eli’s face, too fast for Demetri to identify. His voice is low but it doesn’t sound pained at all, so Demetri keeps working.

The cut isn’t too deep, but it takes some time for the bleeding to stop and Demetri’s mind starts to wander. Eli’s hand isn't as big as his, but it's rough with scars and half-healed scabs.

It's also very warm.

“Demetri? I think it’s okay now.”

He startles at Eli’s voice, cheeks warming and face jerking up. Luckily, Eli is studying his knuckle and not looking at Demetri.

 _What the hell is wrong with you? You need to focus_.

“Oh, uh. Right. One sec.” Demetri really hopes his voice isn’t as breathless as it sounds.

Reaching for the bandages, he begins the process of wrapping one around Eli’s knuckle, struggling to distract himself.

“How’d you get here, anyway?”

Eli looks up and grins at him, waggling his eyebrows. “You already know.”

It takes a second, but then things click and it’s Demetri’s turn to roll his eyes. “Don’t you start with that, too.”

“I think AssFace is right- “

“I am _not_ calling him AssFace.”

“Penis Breath, then,” Eli continues cheerfully. “You all need bikes.”

“That’s a hard no,” Demetri informs him, checking to make sure the bandage is tight enough before letting go of his hand. Eli mock sighs.

“You Miyagi-Dos and your constant need to be as lame as possible at all times.”

“You Eagle-Fangs and your constant need to be in dangerous situations at all times,” Demetri fires back teasingly. Eli smirks wickedly at him but doesn’t object. _Because he knows I’m right_ , Demetri thinks, trying to ignore the way his heart is fluttering.

He lets his eyes slide downwards and studies the bruising around his neck. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do about that.”

Eli shrugs, his face neutral again. “No worries. You’ve done enough.”

“Was it Cobra Kai who did this to you?”

“Yeah,” Eli scoffs. “Fucking assholes jumped me.”

Demetri glances up at the mohawk questioningly, gesturing to the shaved liberty spikes. “What happened there?”

Eli’s face drops, mouth set in a hard line, and for a moment he looks exactly like he used to when someone would give him a hard time about his scar.

“They…they tried to…” He doesn't finish the sentence, but Demetri knows what he’s trying to say. His heart clenches. _Flipping the script_ was how Eli had explained it to everyone, but Demetri had known it meant more than that, even back then. It’s Eli’s smokescreen, his armor, because if everyone is looking at his hair, then no one is looking at his scar. Anger courses through Demetri and Eli must see it in his face because he shakes his head.

“Don’t get mad, not for my sake. It’s nothing I haven’t done to others; to Nate, to the Miyagi-Dos... to you.”

Demetri frowns, but what can he really say to that? It’s all true.

“Anyways, like I said,” Eli continues in an ominous voice, the corner of his mouth turning up. “I got them back already. So don’t fucking worry about it.”

Demetri peers at him for a few moments. “…Oookay, then. I’m not even going to ask.”

Eli snorts. “That’s probably for the best.”

“We’re almost done here, I think,” Demetri tells him. All that’s left is the gash on his lip.

Turning back to the task at hand, he dips the second washcloth into the water before wringing it out. And then, thoughtlessly, _stupidly_ , Demetri’s pressing it softly against the cut on Eli’s lip, other hand cupping his cheek to gently tilt his head up.

The second his mind catches up to him, Demetri freezes. Eli stiffens, face terrifyingly blank. Demetri wonders if he’s about to get socked in the jaw for this.

(And look, maybe he’s been having…thoughts that he’s not accustomed to having about guys in general, let alone his best friend-turned rival-turned friend again. But that doesn’t mean he has to be super obvious about his, frankly pathetic and almost certainly unrequited, crush).

When he’s not immediately punched in the face, Demetri risks opening his mouth.

“Shit, sorry. I should’ve asked first.” Does his voice sound unnaturally high or is that just his imagination?

Eli’s dead silent and Demetri looks down, expecting him to be seconds away from killing Demetri, but all Eli’s doing is gazing at him and not in an _I’m going to beat you bloody_ way. His eyes are intense, burning with some unasked question that Demetri can’t even begin to guess.

Once the dried blood is gone, Demetri takes the cloth away. He’s about to pull his other hand away, too, but Eli’s fingers curl around his wrist, keeping it there.

“It…doesn’t bother you?”

For a moment, Demetri has no idea what he’s talking about.

“You mean your scar?” He asks incredulously. “Of course not. It never has. I’ve always thought it was kind of beautiful, actually.”

Eli’s eyes widen, face going slack with shock and damn it, why had he _said_ that?

“I mean- not beautiful! But-but not _not_ beautiful either!”

“…Demetri.”

“It was…just always part of you, y’know? I mean-“

“Demetri, _shut up_.”

Demetri slams his stupid, freaking mouth shut and decides that he’s never going to speak again. His whole face feels like it’s on fire and his chest is tight with embarrassment. But Eli looks…amused? Like he’s about to start laughing any second now. Slowly, the humor in his eyes fades away and he peers up at Demetri with a shy expression.

“You really mean that.” Eli’s voice is oddly vulnerable.

Demetri sighs and figures there’s no going back now. “Yes, I really mean it,” and to prove it to him, Demetri brushes his thumb against it, gently tracing over the curved skin. Eli inhales shakily, eyes slipping shut as he leans into Demetri’s palm.

After a minute, Demetri slowly pulls back, hand dropping to his lap. They look at each other for one electrifying second and then Eli’s beaming at him, wearing an expression that's so happy and open it takes Demetri’s breath away. Heart racing, Demetri hesitantly smiles back, and they probably look like idiots but who cares if they do? It’s just them here.

“I’m gonna go put,” Demetri gestures to the first aid stuff that’s littered around them. “all this back.” Picking everything up, he starts heading toward the kitchen.

Eli nods. His smile is fading but his face is still soft. Demetri glances at him.

“Do you, uh, wanna stay here tonight?”

His expression brightens again. “Hell yeah! We can watch Doctor Who.”

Demetri pauses and looks over his shoulder. “Oh, so _now_ you wanna watch nerd shit, huh?”

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to since you told me about the Thirteenth Doctor,” Eli says sheepishly. “I can’t believe The Doctor’s a chick this time. That’s so badass.”

“I knew you wanted to watch it! I knew it! I knew it! I knew-"

He yelps, ducking when one of the couch pillows comes flying at him.

“Oh my god, shut up! Hurry and put that shit away so we can watch,” The words are mean-spirited, but Eli’s voice is filled with laughter.

Demetri grins and does just that.

They spend the rest of the night binge-watching Doctor Who and it feels exactly like old times, only better. Despite all the bad this last year has brought into their lives, it’s also made them come into their own in ways neither one of them could have predicted. And if they fall asleep on the couch curled up next to each other, then that’s between them, isn’t it?


End file.
